Ruthless (7 page)

“No, Miss Pasha, girl. I won't stand for it. That nigga gets it, too. Son or no goddamn son, what he done did is…oooh, I need to roll me a blunt to get my mind right, goddammit. That nigga done got my drawers twisted 'round the inside of my ass.”

She tosses everything back into her bag. I can tell she's fighting back her tears. Something I've never seen before. “I don't know what I'ma do, right now. I'ma do my best to keep it classy. But I wanna swoop down on his ass like he did you. Then learn him goddamn good! What he did was messy. And you
know
I don't do messy. I promise you, Miss Pasha, girl, I'ma peel the skin off that nigga-coon the minute he gets out. And when I'm done with him, he's gonna wish he ain't ever lay his goddamn eyes, hands, or anything else on you. I'ma do his ass up right, goddammit.”

She hops up and starts pacing the floor, punching a fist into the palm of her hand. “And I hope he ain't have his dingaling in ya throat, Miss Pasha, girl. Please tell me he ain't skull-fuck you like the rest of them niggas did you.”

I shake my head. Tell her no.

“Thank you,
FahverGawd!
I don't know what I woulda did if you woulda had ya lips wrapped 'round his dingaling, Miss Pasha, girl. Oooh, I wanna fight that nigga-bitch. I'm ready to bust his eye sockets outta his goddamn head. I wanna sling that nigga into the streets ‘n' fight that coon good. Yes, gawd! He done tore his motherfuckin' drawz with me, goddamn him! Let's go bail his black ass outta jail, so we jump on his ass
tonight,
Miss Pasha, girl.”

I won't lie. Cassandra getting hyped to set it off tonight has me practically sitting on the edge of my seat, leaning forward. I feel blood and heat rushing through my body. Shit is really moving, fast!

I still haven't been able to digest everything that's already transpired over the last week. I need to think. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. I tell her tonight's too soon. That we can't move hastily. That we can't move impulsively off of emotions. Or we'll get sloppy.

She glances over at the sheet of paper still on my desk, tossing another drink back.

“Cass, really, you
don't
have to do this. I'd understand.”

She shoots me a look. “Oh, noo, sugah-boo. He wanna be ‘bout that life, then he gotta get a taste of his own damn medicine. I done tol' you I ain't raise his ass to be no shiesty nigga.” She digs in her bag, pulling out her compact. She takes out a tube of lipstick, then glides a coat over her lips.

“Miss Pasha, girl, I can't even think straight right now. I'ma go
home and roll me a blunt, feed my kids ‘n' get them ready for school tomorrow.” She tosses her compact back into her bag, letting it hang in the crook of her arm. “Then I'ma go out for a taste ‘n' have me a few goddamn drinks. And if I'm lucky, I'ma be ridin' down on some good hard wee-wee to beat the stress outta this cootie-coo. Then maybe my mind'll be right.”

“Umm, Cass.” I sit on the edge of my desk. Think before I speak. Knowing how she can go from zero to hundred in a blink of an eye, I choose my words carefully. “I need to trust that everything that is said between us, stays between us.”

She gives me an annoyed look, planting a hand up on her hip. “Oh, no, Miss Pasha, girl. Don't do me. I got loose lips for some good damn dingaling. My lips ain't ever been loose for no gossip. You know I ain't messy. But I see you tryna say I am. You stay tryna do me. And
I'm
the bitch who has your back.
I'm
the bitch ready to roll up on every nigga-bitch who did you dirty, even my own goddamn son.
I'm
ready to take it to his skull for you, goddammit, Miss Pasha, girl.” Her voice starts to crack. “And you standin' here with your dick-suckin' ways tryna tear my drawz down to the seams.”

I take a deep breath.

“Booty, I mean, Cassandra, girl, I know you have my back. And I appreciate that. I mean, it's a little unexpected. But it really means a lot.”

“Uh-huh. Then why you tryna stand here and do me, Miss Pasha, girl? Standin' here sayin' I'm messy. You better go back through your newsfeeds and get your facts straight. Ain't shit messy 'bout Booty, sweetness.”

“That's not what I'm saying, girl. Maybe it didn't come out right. All I want to ensure is that you exercise discretion at all times, that's all.”

“Sugah-boo,” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder and tossing her bang over her forehead. “Like I
said
, I don't flap my gums for nothing but dingdong ‘n' cream… like
you
.” She gives me a look, raising an arched brow for effect. “So instead of tryna do me, let's start doin' them niggas who had you gaggin' on they goddamn dicks. Now like I said earlier, it's Wednesday. I wanna have all these nigga-coons shut down by the end of next week. We ain't got no time for games.”

I give her an incredulous look. “Now wait one minute, Cassandra. I beg your pardon, hon. I know you're upset and all, but you need to pump your damn brakes. The last time I checked, Miss Thing,
this
was
my
fight. Not yours. So if you're not happy with the way I'm handling things, then fall back and stay out of it.”

“Sugah-boo,
boom!
I ain't ask you for no goddamn pardon,
hon.
And I ain't givin' none out. I'm
tellin'
you to get ya mind right, goddammit. And I ain't fallin' back from shit. Not when my son done got his coon-ass all wrapped up into kidnappin' dick-suckin' bitches.”

She opens the door and flounces her ass out, as my phone rings, leaving me standing in the middle of my office, speechless, wondering how the hell I got entangled in her messy-ass web of drama. And how the hell I'll ever get out of it.

In one damn piece.

There's no turning back, no way of rewinding time. Once it's over, it's over…

“H
ey,” I say the minute Stax picks up. It's a little after three in the afternoon. I finished up my two o'clock about five minutes ago. Now I'm in my office, shoes off, stretched out across my sofa, with the door closed. “I got your message. What's going on?”

“Cool. How you?”

“I'm okay. Your message said you needed to talk to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I wanted to check on you; that's all. You know. Make sure you aiight.”

“And?”

He sighs. “C'mon, Pash. Why can't I just be checkin' on you?”

“You can. But if that were the case, Stax, you would have said that in your message. But you didn't. So, again,
and?”

“Aiight, aiight, real shit. You right. I called for another reason
and
to check on you.”

“Mmmph. I knew it. So what is the reason?”

“Before you start snappin', hear me out, aiight?”

I sigh. “I'm listening.”

“Yo, I just left Jasp ‘n' he's buggin' real hard ‘n' shit.”

“Oh well. What does that have to do with me?”

“For the last two days, he's been beatin' me in the head to holla at you.”

I frown, feeling my attitude kick up a notch. “For
what?”

“He wanted me to try to get you to let him see his son ‘n' try'n convince you to drop the restrainin' order on him, but I been kinda avoidin' it; feel me?”

I roll my eyes. “And what does he think having you talk to me is going to accomplish?”

“He wants to get back home, nah mean? He wants to see his son. That nigga's poppin' mad shit, but I know he misses his family, Pash. But you really got him goin' through it.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, really? Exactly when is he
going through
it, Stax? Before, during or
after
he's fucking his whore over on South Arlington?”

“That shit ain't 'bout nothin', Pash. Jasp's head's all fucked up. He's all over the place. I know my fam, Pash. That nigga…
loves
you. Despite all'a the shit y'all put each other through, you the only woman he's ever loved, yo.”

I scoff. “Oh, please, Stax. Love hell. Yeah, he loves me all right. He loves me so much that he'd stage a kidnapping, have me tied up in a basement, have me repeatedly sexually assaulted, then come down and beat me half-to-death, then have niggas toss me out in a park half-naked in the middle of the fucking night. Yeah, that sure sounds like
love
to me. Yup. Jasper loves me enough to hire niggas to shoot at me, make threats to have me killed, and rape me anytime I refuse to give his ass some pussy. Yeah, Stax. You're right. I'm so
loved
by his crazy, sick ass.”

“Pash, I checked him on that shit; real shit. He knows he's fucked up. That nigga don't think straight when it comes to you. It's all or nothing with him. He gets mad reckless.”

“Mmmph. Well, that's his problem. I'm done. So you can tell him I said he
can't
see his son. And I'm
not
dropping shit. Whatever shit he's going through, he put it on himself. He should have thought
long and hard about all of that
before
he did what he's done. After he found out I was out there sucking dick behind his back, he should have beat my ass real good, or fucking packed his shit and left me.

“But, nooooo. The nigga gets all psycho on me, threatening to kill my unborn baby—the
son
he now claims to love so much. Then he threatens to have my grandmother harmed if I ever tried to leave him, rat on him, or play him again. The nigga forced me to marry him, Stax, then turned around and made my life a living a hell. Did you know that?”

“What the fuck?” he mutters. “Nah. I didn't.”

“Well, now you do. So, no, I'm not dropping shit. Jasper's black ass can get rolled in gasoline, then dropped in a pit of fire for all I care.” I pause, swiveling back and forth in my chair. “Speaking of fires, wasn't it tragic what happened to those three houses that got burned to the ground last weekend?”

“I'd rather not talk about that,” he says solemnly.

The tone in his voice confirms what I already knew. I'd hit them hard. Shook up their little playhouse. If he's going through it, then I know Jasper's ass is really feeling the weight of what went down. I decide to keep twisting the screw.

“You know they're saying that all three of those houses were known drug spots.”

Silence.

“Stax, you still there?”

He clears his throat. “Yo, Pash; real shit. I think we need'a change the subject, aiight.”

I smirk. “Fine by me. If they
were
known drug spots that caught fire and got burned down, the community will be much better for it.”

“Yo, Pash. Let's drop it, aiight?”

I feign shock. “Oh, God, no! Stax, wait! Don't tell me!”

“That shit hit hard, aiight? Some good cats lost their lives in those fires.”

Well, you have Jasper to thank for that. This isn't how it was supposed to go down. But Jasper wanted to play dirty. So dirty it is.

I
tsk
. “So sad.”

“Yeah. Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. E'erything went up in flames, and muhfuckas are gone. Shit happens. But, uh, I ain't tryna talk about that.”

I shift in my seat. “Well, okay…enough about that then.” I abruptly hop up from my desk. “Anyway, listen. Since you're passing along messages, I need for you to do me a favor.” I walk into the bathroom, flipping on the light switch. The light immediately glints off the four-carat diamond studs in my ears.

“Aiight, I got you.”

“Do you really, Stax?”

He lowers his voice. “C'mon, Pash. No doubt. I played it back when all that other shit went down. But I ain't goin' out like that again, yo. I'm not gonna let anyone, not even my own fam, try'n hurt you, aiight? I put that on e'erything.”

He sounds so sincere in the way that he says this that I believe him. A sly smile eases over my lips as I tuck this away for future use. I know I'll be able to use this to my advantage at some point.

“I really appreciate hearing that, Stax. Thanks.”

“No doubt. So what's good? What you got for me?”

“I need you to let Jasper know that
if
he wants his money in his safes and wants to see Jaylen, then he needs to give me the names of the rest of those niggas who were there that night. If not, I'm going to keep hitting him where it hurts. And, by the time I'm done with him, he's going to wish he'd killed me when he had the chance to.”

“Yo, c'mon, Pash. Chill wit' that talk. I'm not gonna tell him no shit like that. That nigga's already on the edge. But I'll pass along it's a no-go wit' court ‘n' seein' his son.”

“You can pass along whatever you want. But
I
want those names.”

“Aiigt, Pash. I hear you. Listen. I got some shit I gotta handle. I'ma hit you up later tonight. I got some other shit I need'a holla at you about, aiight?”

“You know how to find me,” I say, ending the call as another call rings through. I glance at the screen. It's Nana. I take a deep breath. Then slowly exhale, answering, “Hello.”

“Pasha,” she says, sounding distressed. “Felecia's still missing. No one has seen or heard from her since early Sunday afternoon. And I don't think the police are really trying hard enough to locate her.”

“Nana,” I attempt to reassure, “I'm sure the police are doing everything within their power to find her. I'm sure she'll show up somewhere.”

“I'm keeping it lifted in prayer. Has she called you?”

“No, Nana. I haven't heard from her.”

“This is not like her…”

Yeah, so you think. I didn't think she'd ever snake me. But the bitch did.